The Monday After
by Sennalyn
Summary: Danny tries diplomacy to defeat a Stachybotrys monster. Will it work? Complete
1. Prologue: The Secret Life of Mold

THE MONDAY AFTER

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Danny Phantom_, Butch Hartman does.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story takes place soon after the events in my previous two stories, "Fenton Family Secrets" and "Fenton Family Feud", both available on Cheers!

P.S. The whole mold idea came to me during a seminar I attended on Mold Litigation Issues June 25, 2005. Truly fascinating! Who knew legal educational seminars could be so inspirational!

* * *

PROLOGUE: THE SECRET LIFE OF MOLD

The _Stachybotrys Chartarum (atra)_ had been growing slowly and steadily in the basement of Casper High, quietly minding its own business. Born from a slow leak that went unnoticed for nearly two weeks, the slimy, greenish black crud silently inched its way up the wet drywall in a dark, dank corner. When Vice Principal Lancer descended into the basement to do his bi-monthly meat inventory, the musty odour gave the mold's existence away. Once discovered, the leak in the pipe was repaired, and the smelly black mold was scrubbed off the wall and floor with industrial strength bleach. The pungent liquid stung, burned. Stachy screamed in agony as parts of it melted away and other parts were scraped with a hard brush, but no one heard its cries.

_One day,_ Stachy thought bitterly. _One day I will return and have my revenge on he who injured me. One day_

Time passed. Despite the repair of the damaged pipe, and being very nearly cleaned out of existence, the mold had hope: the water damaged floor and drywall had not been replaced, and so, in time, Stachy blossomed to life once again. Barely existing on slightly moist drywall and dust alone, it painstakingly renewed itself with each passing day. And, though it lived, the mold was frustrated with its own slow progress and its desire for vengeance grew.

_If only,_ Stachy thought morosely,_ if only I had more food . . ._


	2. Part One: Explaining Things

THE MONDAY AFTER

DISCLAIMER: I don't own_ Danny Phantom_. Butch Hartman does.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The first conversation between Danny and Sam was written a week before "Control Freaks" aired. Seriously, I had no idea how that eppy was going to end, you know, with Sam and her parents and the dress and frilly girly stuff and all.

* * *

PART ONE: EXPLAINING THINGS

"Hey, Danny! Wait up!"

Danny Fenton closed his locker door, turned to the voice calling his name and smiled. Sam Manson made her way down the hallway towards him, weaving in and out of the clumps of students shuffling towards the cafeteria for lunch.

"Hi, Sam! How was your weekend?" He asked falling into step with her.

Sam groaned. "My mom has decided that Sundays are going to be 'Mom and Daughter Day'. I had to spend the whole day with her doing . . . _stuff_. Bonding stuff. She's trying to 'reconnect' with me. I think it's something she learned in therapy!"

"So, what did you and your mom do yesterday?"

"We had spa treatments," Sam glowered, and paused to wiggle her fingers in Danny's face. "You know, manicures and pedicures, stuff like that."

Danny chuckled at the pale pink polish on Sam's fingernails. "Nice colour!"

"Yeah, my mom wants to turn me into a little lady! Gah! So what did you do?"

"Oh," Danny shrugged, and continued walking down the hall, now devoid of students but for him and Sam. "Had a talk with my parents. About everything that happened last week. About my aunt, and the ghost, and stuff."

"Yeah? Are you okay?"

"I guess. I feel pretty stupid, though. I can't believe I fell for that ghost's trick! I let it lead me right into Plasmius' trap!"

"Don't feel bad, Danny. She _was_ pretty convincing! She'd really done her homework!"

Danny and Sam entered the cafeteria and took their place at the end of the queue. They chatted about their classes, homework, and other mundane topics while surrounded by their classmates, content to wait until they were alone before picking up their original topic of conversation.

"Well, _Plasmius_ had done his homework," Danny told Sam when he was certain they wouldn't be overheard. "I'm con_vin_ced he was behind the whole thing! It almost . . . well, okay, it kinda worked, too."

"How do you mean?" Sam asked, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth.

"I was really mad at my dad. I mean, I even _hated_ him for a while. I'm sure that's ex_act_ly what Plasmius wanted: for me to be _so_ angry at my dad that I might be persuaded to betray him."

"But, it _didn't_ work, Danny! I mean, sure you were mad at your dad, but you're not anymore, right?"

"Well, yeah, but only because of what my dad told me later. Apparently Plasmius didn't do a very good job researching his subject matter!"

"What do you mean?"

Danny sighed and leaned his elbow on the cafeteria table, picking at the pale lunch meat sticking out between two slices of white bread. Before he could answer, Tucker Foley arrived.

"Hey, guys! What's up?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Danny was just about to tell me."

Tucker sat down beside Sam, and began to eat his lunch, glancing expectantly at Danny.

"It's about my aunt, Danielle," Danny said.

"Danielle? The one that ghost was impersonating?" Tucker asked between bites of hamburger.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Apparently, my dad didn't tell me _every_thing when he told me the story about her being taken into the Ghost Zone. He left out a little detail."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam inquired spearing a lettuce leaf with her fork. "Like what?"

"Like, that she got _out_ of the Ghost Zone!"

"Got out?" Sam exclaimed, her fork clattering on the plate as she dropped it. "How?"

"And," Tucker added. "That's hardly a _little_ detail!"

"He didn't know how," Danny explained. "He said she just showed up on their doorstep several years later. My parents were just married, and they just had Jazz. He said Danielle stayed with them a few days then disappeared . . . with some of their things."

"She _stole_ stuff from your _par_ents?" Sam exclaimed incredulously. "From her own _brother_!"

Danny nodded. "Yup. _That_'s why my dad didn't want to talk about her anymore. Why he seemed so upset. It wasn't cause she was lost in the Ghost Zone, but because she came back and ripped them off."

"Well, can't say I blame him," Sam said crossing her arms over her chest angrily. "That's just _wrong_! Stealing from your own family!"

"Yeah." Danny pushed his potato salad around the plate with his fork.

The trio sat silently pondering the news for a moment before Tucker spoke. "So, she's still out there somewhere."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So, maybe she'll come back. Maybe you'll still get to meet her!"

"Maybe," Danny grumbled. "Maybe I don't _want_ to meet her anymore. Maybe if she's smart, she won't show her face around here ever again!"

Tucker opened his mouth to speak again when the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. Danny and Sam picked up their trays and headed towards the exit. Tucker watched them go a moment, then picked up his own tray and followed them. He caught up with them in the hallway.

"Look, Danny, all I'm saying is, maybe she had a good reason to take that stuff."

"What _good_ reason could she possibly have?" Sam demanded.

"I don't know. Maybe she needed money!"

"If she needed money, Tucker, why didn't she just ask my parents for a loan, or something?" Danny asked.

"I don't _know_! I don't know your aunt, Danny, but I do know that sometimes family members do things that aren't always nice, but it doesn't make them any less family!"

Sam and Danny stopped and looked at Tucker. He held their gazes a moment before growing uncomfortable and looking away. "Look, Danny, just don't judge her too harshly, okay? I'm sure she had a reason to do what she did. Whatever is between her and your parents is just between them. It doesn't _have_ to concern _you_."

The second bell rang, and trio quickly parted ways. Danny squeezed into his American History class while the teacher's back was turned, narrowly avoiding a tardy mark. Though he'd actually got his reading done for the day's lecture, he was unable to concentrate in class; Tucker's advice rang in his head.

_". . . just don't judge her too harshly . . ."_

_"Whatever is between her and your parents . . . doesn't **have** to concern **you**."_

Danny sighed. Tucker had a point. In fact, he had a couple pretty good points. Not that it mattered. The possibility of his aunt Danielle coming by for a visit was about as remote as Danny getting through a school day without fighting ghosts.

A chill raced up his spine, and the familiar blue mist escaped his lips.

"Oh, man!" Danny groaned, and let his forehead smack down on top of his desk. "Why me?"

A monstrous roar combined with the terrified shrieks of his classmates served to remind Danny that a ghost-free school day wasn't going to happen any time soon.


	3. Part Two: The Awakening

THE MONDAY AFTER

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.

* * *

PART TWO: THE AWAKENING

The mold was resting after a particularly long and grueling night of growing and spreading. It was very nearly asleep when a ruckus woke it. Loud angry voices, crashing, banging, and screaming. Stachy shuddered. Had it been discovered? Would the burning and scraping begin again? It could barely stand the thought of going through that horror once more.

More crashing, more loud voices; the mold tried, but could only make out bits and pieces of what was being said.

"Get away!"

_BOOM!_

"Give me my MEAT!"

_Bump, bump, **crash**_!

"Danny! Look out!"

"Huh?"

"Behind you!"

_Thunk!_

"Ooooffff!"

"Danny! _No_!"

"Ahhhhh!"

_Thud!_

_Splat!_

A drop of a cold, slimey substance struck the mold; the shock of it awoke it fully.

_What is this?_ Stachy wondered. _So cold . . . yet so . . . alive._

More aware, it listened for more voices, but now, there was silence – whatever had been going on was over now and the basement was empty. The mold cautiously examined the substance that touched it; it smelled odd, but not bad. Stachy tentatively ingested some of the slime, and found it quite delicious. The mold began to feel better, stronger, the more of the substance it absorbed.

_Yes!_ It thought. _This is what I need! This is what I've been waiting for!_

Stachy felt alive, more alive than it ever had. And it grew. It grew fast and strong. It wouldn't be long before the mold would be strong enough to exact its revenge on the one who was responsible for destroying it: the one they called Lancer.

"What I can't figure out is what the Lunch Lady ghost was so _mad_ about," Sam said. "They put meat back on the menu!"

"And thank goodness," Tucker responded. "Otherwise I would've _starved_ to death!"

Sam, Tucker and Danny headed towards a grassy hill across the court yard from Casper High; the final bell of the day still echoed in the air. The late afternoon sun was hot, and they stopped under a large, shady tree, dropping their backpacks and popping open cans of soda.

"I didn't think to ask what her problem was," Danny admitted, settling under the tree. "I just fought her."

"Well, maybe you should _start_ asking," Sam suggested standing to one side of him. "Who knows? Maybe some ghosts just have a little problem that would be solved some way _other_ than fighting."

Danny lightly touched his upper arm where the Lunch Lady ghost had cut him with a flying cleaver, and thought about what Sam said. "You may have a point, Sam," he said thoughtfully. "I guess I just assume the worst of every ghost I see."

"That's because every ghost you've ever met has been bad," Tucker said, leaning against the tree opposite Sam.

"But, not _all_ of them have been," Danny corrected, remembering. "The Dairy King set me free from Plasmius' containment device, and Cujo was only mean because he wanted his squeaky toy. I bet if we saw him now, he'd be a perfectly friendly ghost dog."

"You may be right about those two, Danny," Tucker conceded. "But the bad ghost guys greatly outnumber the good ones."

"That's true."

"I still think you should trying talking to them first," Sam insisted, her arms crossed in front of her. "Find out what they _want_!"

"Well, _I_ say fight first and ask questions later," Tucker replied defiantly.

"Talk!"

"Fight!"

"_Talk_!"

"_Fight_!"

"Guys! Please! _Stop_!"

Tucker and Sam stopped yelling and turned to Danny. "Sorry, Tuck, but I think Sam might be on to something," he said.

"What?" Tucker exclaimed.

"Ha!" Sam gloated.

"No, really, if you think about it, it makes sense," Danny continued looking up at both his friends in turn. "If I can find out what a ghost's problem is, or find out what it wants, I might be able to help, and might _not_ have to fight!"

"Oh, yeah," Tucker said sarcastically. "You should do that. Talk to 'em first. I'm sure they just busted out of the Ghost Zone for a little conversation!"

Danny sighed. "Tuck_er_!"

"No, no, Danny, I mean it!" Tucker continued. "It's a brilliant idea! Hey! I know! Maybe you could try out that technique on Dash, too!"

"What are you talking about, Tucker?" Danny asked, though he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"You could ask him why he's always out to get you. I'm sure he'd just _love_ to sit down and chat about whatever's bugging him!"

Danny sighed again. Beside him, Sam growled.

"Oh, sure! Just make fun of it, why don't you?" Sam cried. "You know what your problem is, Tucker? If someone has an idea you don't understand, you just dismiss it!"

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is," Sam said.

"Please," Danny moaned, his voice muffled as his face was in his hands. "You guys, _please_!"

"Danny, are you okay?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Yeah, but I'm sick of all the yelling," Danny answered.

"I'm sorry," said Sam.

"I'm sorry, too," Tucker echoed.

"It's just . . ." Danny's voice drifted off as he sighed. "It's just, you know, I've been doing this ghost fighting thing for _months_ now, and I just keep thinking . . . " Danny's ghost sense went off before he could finish his thought. "Gah! What _now_?"

Danny stood and phased into ghost mode, then rose off the ground in search of the creature who interrupted him.

"Danny!" Sam called after him. "Try talking to it first!"

"Hey, can I finish your soda?" Danny was about to tell Tucker _absolutely not!_ when a collective scream and stampeeding herd of teachers and a few students exiting Casper High caught his attention. He flew off in the direction of the ruckus, dove through a window then through a closed door, and soon came face to face with his cardboard-loving nemisis, the Box Ghost, in an empty hallway. Danny sighed.

"Hey!" He called.

The Box Ghost turned.

"What are you doing here?" Danny asked.

"Huh?" The Box Ghost replied.

"What are you _doing_ here!" Danny repeated. "What do you _want_?"

"I am _the Box Ghost_!"

"I know who you _are_," Danny said with annoyance. "I asked you want you _want_!"

The Box Ghost hovered in the air, staring in amazement at Danny.

"What do I . . ."

"Want! Want! What do you _want_!"

"Uhh . . . a box?"

Danny sighed exasperatedly. "Fine. Wait here."

He flew through the ceiling and around to the back of the school where the dumpsters were lined up along the brick wall. He looked in and around the dumpsters until he found what he was looking for.

"Ah _ha_!" He exclaimed as he picked up a medium sized carboard box that was still in pretty good shape. "This oughta keep that Box Ghost busy for a while!"

He dumped the contents out into a nearby dumpster, then returned to the school corridor.

The ghost was hovering exactly where Danny had left him; a look of curiosity and confusion of his chubby blue face. Danny shoved the empty box at him.

"Here," he said. "Here's a box. Now go away!"

The Box Ghost stared in awe at the gift presented to him.

"Go on," Danny said waving his hands at the ghost. "Shoo!"

"Oh. Okay," the stunned specter replied, and slowly rose up through the ceiling.

Danny was just about to return to his friends, when the Box Ghost's head materialized through the ceiling.

"I almost forgot," the ghost said. "BEWARE! Oh, and, thanks for the box!"

Then he was gone again. Danny couldn't help but smile at the rather odd exchange. "At least I walked away from that one without any bruises," he said to himself, then flew back to the grassy hill where Sam and Tucker were waiting for him.

"Well?" Sam demanded before Danny had even returned to his human form. "What happened?"

"Yeah," Tucker said. "You don't _look_ like you've been in a ghost fight."

"That's because I wasn't," Danny answered. "It was the Box Ghost again."

"And?" Sam and Tucker said together.

"And, I took Sam's advice. I asked him what he wanted."

"And?" Danny's friends said again.

"And, he told me."

"_And?_"

"He wanted a box," Danny replied with a shrug.

Sam did a face slap and Tucker groaned. Danny snickered at his friends.

"So, what _happened_?" Sam asked through clenched teeth.

"So, I found him a box," Danny answered. "I gave it to him, told him to leave, and he left."

Sam and Tucker stared dumbfounded at their smirking friend, then a slow smile spread across Sam's face.

"It worked!" She cried, triaumphantly punching the sky with her fist. "You got a ghost to go away without a fight just by _talk_ing to it!"

"Yup."

"Oh, come on," Tucker said. "It was just the Box Ghost! I'd like to see you use that trick on a really _dang_erous ghost!"

"I will!" Danny said. His patience used up, he stormed away from his friends. "Just you wait, Tucker, I _will_!"


	4. Part Three: Taking Over

THE MONDAY AFTER

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Danny Phantom_. Butch Hartman does.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: _Rodeo_ was used by the Beef Industry as the background music during it's "Beef, it's what's for dinner" TV campaign. I thought it would be appropriate for the situation:-)

_Out of the Dust_ by Karen Hesse. Okay, I know this is a book about the Oklahoma dust bowl and has nothing whatsoever to do with mold, but Lancer thought he was inhaling dust not mold, so that's why I chose it. Also, it's a really good book.

* * *

PART THREE: TAKING OVER

Mr. Lancer stepped lightly down the stairs to the basement of Casper High, humming Aron Copeland's _Rodeo_ under his breath. He stopped before the massive wall of beef-filled crates and regarded it carefully.

"Hmmm, we appear to be down two T-bones and three London Broils," he murmured.

Turning, the school's vice principal took a clipboard off the wall behind him, and began check-marking items on the list with a pen attached to the clipboard by a string. He slowly walked along the row of crates, pausing to examine the invoice attached to each one, making notes and muttering to himself.

Stachy waited patiently as Mr. Lancer paced the length of the crate row. It had been planning its revenge since being struck by the mysterious slime. It had been growing stronger and stronger, spreading covertly up a dimly lit corner and along the edge of the still-moist floor. When the time put its plan into action grew closer, Stachy detoured a part of itself up a dryer part of the wall. While it was painful to sacrifice some of itself to a slow, drying death, Stachy knew it was the only way to release its spores.

_If only he would come closer._ Stachy thought. _If only . . ._

Mr. Lancer reached the end of the row, and turned to go back, then stopped and spun around. He stepped around behind the wall of crates to inspect the back of them. After the devastating loss caused by the leaky pipe and resulting mold, he wasn't taking any more chances with his precious stash of meat.

_Yes! That's it! Come closer!_

Mr. Lancer reached the end of the row which was near, but not close to the corner of the wall. The tall crates cast a shadow in the corner, so he knelt down to feel the bottom of the crates and the floor for any sign of moisture or mold. The concrete was cold, but dry, and the wooden crates were solid and secure. Mr. Lancer sighed with relief. Everything appeared to be in order. While they were running low on some items, the containers were uncontaminated by mold. He recalled the quiet tears he shed as two cases of tainted meat were disposed of just a few weeks earlier.

"Excellent!" He exclaimed.

_Excellent!_ Stachy thought. Sending a silent signal to its dry dead tendril, Stachy instructed: _NOW!_

Just as Mr. Lancer was about to stand up, a whirl of dust-like particles _poofed_ in his face, flying into his nose and mouth. He coughed and sneezed violently for several minutes before regaining his composure.

"_Out of the Dust_! I'll have to remember to get someone to come down here and sweep," he said, sneezing again.

The teacher squeezed past the boxes along the wall, replaced the clipboard on the hook, and took one last longing look at the meat crates before shutting off the light and ascending the stairs.

Mr. Lancer awoke the next morning feeling miserable. His throat burned, his sinuses ached and his brain pounded inside his skull. He briefly contemplated calling in sick, then remembered the special faculty meeting he had scheduled that morning to discuss candidates for the school councilor position. That Spectra woman, who had come so highly recommended, had abruptly vacated the position without notice, leaving them completely in the lurch. It wouldn't do, he decided, to miss his own meeting.

He rose and forced himself through his morning routine – he took a shower, made coffee, and read the paper. On this particular morning, he also consumed a large glass of orange juice to combat what he suspected was yet another cold or flu bug he'd caught.

Inside him Stachy's spores were hard at work. Slowly but diligently they reproduced themselves, spreading through the human's body. Powered by the strange substance their parent ingested, the spores grew strong, their parent's voice rang in their collective heads:

_Avenge me, my children! Avenge me!_

"Hey, Danny, how's your arm today?"

"It's a lot better, Sam," Danny answered smacking his locker door shut. "I don't even think it'll leave a scar!"

"That's great news!" Sam said, adjusting her books on her hip.

Danny and Sam began walking down the hall to class when a tall shadow fell over them. The two paused and pressed themselves against the lockers as Mr. Lancer passed by them. He was disheveled, slumped over and looked positively green. The kids remained silent until their teacher turned the corner.

"Man! He looks _aw_ful!" Sam said, keeping her voice low.

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "I hope he doesn't breathe on me, I'd hate to catch whatever he's got!"

The two students continued down the hallway, when Danny shuddered and the familiar mist wafted out of his mouth.

"What the . . . That's odd," he said, looking around. "I don't _see_ any ghosts."

"Maybe it was just passing through," Sam said with a smirk.

Danny groaned. "Good one, Sam! Very original!"

"Heh! C'mon, we're gonna be late for Biology!"

Mr. Lancer closed the door to his classroom, then sat down behind his desk and moaned. His illness was progressing at a much faster rate than any flu he'd ever had before - his throat felt swollen; he could barely swallow or breathe, his joints ached and his skin felt like it was on fire.

"I really should just leave now," he murmured. "No point in staying and infecting the entire staff and student body."

The morning's meeting to discuss Miss Spectra's sudden resignation and her possible replacement ended with no resolution, and by the time the hour was up, Mr. Lancer was not feeling well enough to care. Several of the teachers commented on how terrible he looked, and it didn't fail to escape his notice that most of the students were giving him wide berth through the hallways. Yes, he should give up. Call it a day and go home.

He began gathering up his papers and books, when he noticed something odd on the back of his hand. Lifting his hand, he closely inspected what appeared to be a small black smudge on his hand. Mr. Lancer frowned and picked at it with his fingernail, but the blotch didn't budge; it did, however, quiver a bit, and appeared to grow.

Mr. Lancer squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. _I must have a higher fever than I thought,_ the startled teacher thought. _I'm seeing things!_

When he looked at his hand again, it was almost completely covered with a thick, black mass that was spreading quickly over his fingers and around his wrist. He opened his mouth to cry out, but his throat was suddenly too tight and no sound came out. As he watched in horror, a slimy black and green substance oozed from the skin on his hands and arms; he soon felt it on his scalp and the back of his neck as well. Before Mr. Lancer could react, run, or call for help, the alien material spread down his forehead and into his eyes, enveloping him in sudden darkness like a kidnapper throwing a bag over his head.

In the darkness, Mr. Lancer realized he wasn't alone; some . . . _thing_ was in there with him. Something he felt was strong, powerful, and very angry. At him.

_Who are you?_ Mr. Lancer said in his mind, somehow knowing the other entity would understand him. _What do you want?_

Silence surrounded him for a long moment, then a low hum began, like the sound of a thousand whispering voices, growing stronger and louder until Mr. Lancer finally made out what it was saying:

_Revenge! Revenge! **Revenge**!_


	5. Part Four: Give Peace a Chance

THE MONDAY AFTER

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Danny Phantom_. Butch Hartman does.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Alexander Fleming was the guy who discovered penicillin when he let an experiment get moldy. I'm sure you all knew that, but I thought I'd throw it in. Yes, I _know_ that penicillin and stachybotrys are two completely different types of mold, but quite frankly, mold is mold, in my opinion, and it's all gross. Also, I know it's not a book title (which is what Lancer usually curses with), but I just couldn't think of anything, so I went with it.

* * *

PART FOUR: GIVE PEACE A CHANCE

"F_in_ally!" Danny grumbled as the final bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. Gathering up his texbook, pencil and papers, he leapt from his desk and fled out the door. American History was a painfully boring subject anyway, but having it as the last class of the day made was nearly impossible to stay awake. Thankfully he hadn't been caught snoring this time.

He met up with Sam and Tucker in the hall, looking as bedraggled as he felt.

"Man! This day was _aw_ful!" Tucker complained.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It's like all the teachers conspired to make each class harder than the last, and give us more homework than _ever_!"

"_And_, bore us to death!" Danny added. "I'm just glad it's finally _o_ver and we can go home!"

The trio turned and made their way down the hallway. As they passed the still-closed door of Mr. Lancer's classroom, Danny paused, regarding the door with a frown.

"What's up?" Tucker asked returning to his friend's side.

"Nothing . . . well, actually I'm wondering if Mr. Lancer is okay," Danny admitted grudgingly. "He looked terrible when Sam and I saw him earlier, and he's been shut up in his classroom all afternoon!"

"You think we should check on him?" Tucker asked.

"Oh, come _on_, you guys!" Sam glowered, rolling her eyes. "He's fine. He's got a little flu or something is all. Besides, he's a grown-up, he can take care of himself!"

"I guess you're right, Sam," Danny said, and turned away from the door.

The three teens had just made it to the end of the hall when a loud crashing sound caught their attention. Danny, Tucker and Sam raced back to Lancer's classroom and peered through the frosted glass window in the middle of the door. They could just make out a large, dark mass stumbling around inside, bumping into desks and walls as it flailed about.

"Then again," Sam said with a shrug. "Maybe there _is_ something wrong!"

"Cover me! I'm going ghost!"

Sam and Tucker stood close together, effectivly hiding Danny as he transformed from a human teenager to a powerful ghost.

"You two stay here," he ordered. "I'm going in!"

Danny passed slowly through the wooden door and materialized in the classroom. There before him was an otherworldly creature he'd never seen before, several out-of-place and overturned desks, and no sign of Mr. Lancer.

Danny regarded the creature with undisguised disgust. The greenish bits of it glowed; the sludgy black bits dripped off it making wet slapping sounds on the linoleum floor. As he watched, parts of the creature's body bulged out, as though it were trying to grow a new appendage. Or, Danny thought with a shudder, something inside was trying to get out.

Danny approached the creature cautiously. He cleared his throat and the creature turned towards him.

"Uh, hi," he said, trying to sound friendly. "Ummm. Who, or, ah, what are you?"

The creature pondered Danny's question a long moment before answering. "We . . . We do not know. Exactly. We came from our mother, Stachybotrys; she whom The Evil One called mold."

"Mold?" Danny repeated.

The Creature shuddered with rage. "The Evil One killed our mother. Once. Twice. She released us before The Evil One could destroy her again."

Danny's mind raced. _Mold? This creature is some kind of . . . mold monster? But, how? And where did it . . . hey! Wait a minute!_

Before he could even finish his thought, Danny remembered something that had happened just a couple days earlier. He had just sucked a ghost out of a piece of dancing chalk and into the Fenton Thermos, and returned to the janitor's closet to change back into Danny Fenton and hopefully slip unnoticed into the throngs of students. Suddenly the door burst open, and Danny barely had time to go invisible and press himself up flat against the wall as Mr. Lancer and the school's janitor burst in.

"Alexander _Flem_ing, Mike!" Lancer exclaimed with a snarl. "What do we have to do to get rid of that con_found_ed mold once and for all? It's threatening to destroy my stores of _meat_! Er, I mean, my important school supplies."

Danny saw the janitor smirk as he reached up for a container on a high shelf.

"Dunno what to tell ya, Mr. Lancer," he said, pulling down a gallon of bleach. "Maybe ya should call a mold expert."

"Yes, I suppose I should," Mr. Lancer agreed huffily.

"Meantime," The janitor continued. "I'll use this here bleach to get off az much of it az I can."

After the two men left, Danny returned to normal, slipped out of the supply closet and headed back to class. He'd completely forgotten about the conversation until now.

"So, lemme get this straight: your mother was some mold . . ."

"Stachybotrys!" The Creature shouted.

"Uh, okay, stackybod . . . stactaba . . . oh, whatever! She was growing . . . down in the basement? Where Lancer hoards all the meat?"

"Yes," the Creature confirmed. "She set us free just before she was destroyed."

"Oh, well, that was nice of her," Danny murmured, then said aloud, "So, what exactly are _you_ doing _here_?"

"When she freed us, our mother's last words to us were _Avenge me, my children!_ And, we are doing so now."

"Oh, great," Danny glowered. "Looks like this won't be an easy fix after all." Danny sized up his opponent, who suddenly look very unlike any mold he'd ever seen before. "By the way, how did you get so big? And glowy?"

"Our mother ingested a special substance," the Creature said. "It made her, and us, stronger and more powerful than before."

_Special substance?_ Danny's brow furrowed in concentration. _Special . . . wait a minute! The fight with the Lunch Lady ghost! We ended up in the basement, and she cut me with that clever! That special substance was blood! Specifically my **ghost** blood!_

The Creature writhed, its stomach undulating again. Danny thought he heard a cry coming from within its bulk.

"Help! Somebody get me _out_ of here!"

"Um, what, or who is in there?" Danny asked.

"The Evil One!" The Creature replied. "He who killed our mother!"

_Killed? Oh, no! Lancer!_

Danny quickly weighed his options. Sucking the monster into the Fenton Thermos then shooting it into the Ghost Zone was out of the question, as was fighting the monster. Not with Lancer trapped inside; the teacher could be injured.

"But how did you . . . how did _he_ get in there?"

"We worked from the inside out," the Creature said with pride. "Released as tiny spores, we floated into his oral and nasal passages, were absorbed into his body. We flowed with his evil blood, exited through his numerous pores and spread over his skin until we enveloped him completely."

"Oh, gross!" Danny exclaimed. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and stood up as straight and imposing as possible. He cleared his throat and said in his most authoritative voice: "I order you to release him!"

"We do not take orders from you!" The Creature snarled. "We do only what our mother asked of us: avenge her! And, we shall!"

Danny sighed. He could see no other choice than to battle the monster and try to free Lancer. He only hoped he didn't hurt his teacher in the process.

"I really hate to do this," he said, summoning up a large glowing sphere in the palm of his hand.

"No, Danny! Wait!"

Danny spun around at the sound of Sam's voice. She and Tucker burst through the door and rushed into the room.

"If you fight that thing you might hurt Mr. Lancer!"

"What!" Danny exclaimed. "I told you two to stay . . .oh, never mind!"

"Look, there's got to be a better way to get that thing to release Lancer without hurting him, _or_ it!" Sam insisted.

"I've been talking to it, Sam!" Danny said. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Try _rea_soning with it," she said despirately.

"Reasoning with it?" Danny repeated incredulously.

"Well, yeah," Sam said. "I mean, it appears to have some sort of intelligence . . ."

"Yeah, well, it only got that way because the mold in the basement got hit with some of my ghost blood."

"Eww!" Sam and Tucker said together.

"Okay," Danny said. "I guess it couldn't hurt to _try_ reasoning with it a little more. After all, I can just beat it up later if talking it out doesn't work."

"Wow, that's the spirit!" Sam said sarcastically.

Danny turned back to the creature trying to find the words to peacefully resolve the situation.

"Okay," he addressed the creature. "I understand where you're coming from. I think. The mold . . . er, the staky stuff Mr. Lancer destroyed in the basement was your mother. And . . . she was just trying to live her life, right?"

The monster's head inclined slightly.

"And, well . . . well . . ." Danny struggled to find the right words. What could he say? It was true Lancer had ordered the mold removed, but what choice did he have? He couldn't just let mold grow in the school! It was dangerous. It damaged stuff. It ruined food. It made people sick.

"That's _it_!" Danny exclaimed, then addressed the creature again. "Well, the fact is, humans and mold just can't live together."

"What do you mean?" The Creature asked.

"I mean, where you live . . . where you are, our stuff . . . I mean, _human_ stuff gets damaged. Homes are destroyed. Food is ruined. Humans get really sick." He paused to let the information sink in. "You see, Mr. Lancer was just trying to protect the students. He had nothing against your mother. He was . . . obligated to remove her to keep his students safe."

The Creature seemed to be contemplating what Danny had said, and Danny's hopes rose.

_Wow! This might actually **work**!_ He thought.

Finally, the Creature spoke: "We understand what you have said."

"Cool!" Danny exclaimed. "Then you'll let Mr. Lancer . . ."

"However, we must obey our mother. We must avenge her. We must destroy the Human's Protector, Lancer."

Danny sighed. Turning back to Sam and Tucker he asked, "Well, what do I do _now_?"

Sam shrugged, and dropped her eyes to her feet. "I guess the time for diplomacy is over."

"Yeah, Danny," Tucker agreed. "You did your best, but if that thing isn't going to release Lancer peacefully, well, I guess you have to take him back by force!"

"Yeah," Danny said disappointed. "I guess so."

Danny turned back to the monster and mentally prepared himself for battle. There were times, he realized suddenly, when he actually _enjoyed_ fighting ghosts. The rush of adrenaline that raced through his body as he fired off ectoplasmic blasts, and dodged return fire. The overwhelming satisfaction he felt when he defeated his foes, and sent them running for their afterlives or sucked them into the Fenton Thermos.

This, however, would not be one of those fights. Danny would take no joy in fighting and (hopefully) defeating this creature, but he no longer had a choice. As Sam had said, the time for diplomacy was over. The time to fight was now.


	6. Part Five: AllOut War

THE MONDAY AFTER

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Danny Phantom_, Butch Hartman does.

* * *

PART FIVE: ALL-OUT WAR

Danny took a deep breath and lunged at the Creature, punching it in what he guessed was the general vicinity of its face. His fist sank wrist-deep into the slimy substance and when he withdrew his hand, he found it covered with black and green goo.

"Eww!" He said shaking his hand in the air to dislodge the mess. The goo spattered on the floor, and Danny watched in horrified fascination as the individual blobs made their way back to rejoin the Creature.

Taking a couple steps back, Danny - mindful of Mr. Lancer's safety - willed up a moderate ectoplasmic blast, and shot it at the Creature, hitting it on its left side, where Danny thought its shoulder area might be. The beam was absorbed into the Creature, causing the area around the entry point to glow, and smoke to eminate from the burning area. The Creature howled in pain and anger, and was joined by Mr. Lancer's muffled scream. Danny ceased firing at the Creature when he heard Mr. Lancer's cry.

"Be careful, Danny!" Sam shouted at him.

"I'm _try_ing!" Danny shouted back. "But, I'm not sure exactly where Lancer is in all this . . . this _stuff_!"

"Well, why don't you ask him?" Tucker suggested.

Danny and Sam turned and stared at him.

"What?" Tucker asked. "I thought it was a good idea."

Danny smiled. "It's better than good, Tuck, it's great!"

Danny turned back to the Creature, and looked it up and down. It was a mostly shapeless, formless mass that sometimes had what looked like arms and legs and a head, and other times was just a large gooey blob. He approached it carefully.

"M . . .Mr. Lancer?" He called hesitantly. He wasn't even sure his teacher could hear him inside the Creature.

"What? Who's there?" Came the cry from inside.

"Mr. Lancer? Is that you?" Danny asked.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, please, for the love of all things _Dickens_ get me out of here!"

"Where are you exactly? Uh, poke out your hand, so I can see where you are."

Danny watched intently as part of the Creature's midsection tentatively bulged out. The creature growled and shuddered its wobbly mass, and with a yelp, the bulge disappeared.

"Dang it!" Danny growled.

"Hold on, Danny, I think I can figure it out!"

Danny turned and watched as Tucker's fingers flew over the keyboard of his PDA.

"Okay, that thing is about seven feet high," Tucker said. "And Mr. Lancer is, what? Six foot? Six one?"

"He's not _that_ tall, Tucker," Sam said. "Maybe five nine."

"Oh, come on, Sam!" Tucker protested. "He's _got_ to be taller than that!"

"Well just because he's taller than _us_ doesn't make him six feet tall!"

"Guys! Please!" Danny pleaded. "Tucker, what are you getting at?"

"If I can calculate the distance between the bulge we're guessing was Lancer's hand, and the top of this thing's head, I might be able to pin point Lancer's location. Then you could fire around him and . . ."

"And free Lancer with_out_ harming him," Danny finished. "Excellent! So, what've you got?"

Tucker stopped calculating and looked up at the monster, scrutinizing it, then squinted down at the PDA screen; Sam leaned in for a better look. After a long moment, Tucker said: "Anywhere from the top of its head to about a foot down and in on all sides should be safe. There might be more room, but, since we don't know exactly, I'd rather not take the chance."

Sam pulled back and smiled at him. "Nice calculations, Tucker!"

Danny grinned at his friend. "Okay, now let's put 'em to the test!"

Danny turned back to the Creature who continued to shudder and drip; its captive remained silent and still. From deep inside himself, he willed up an ectoplasmic energy blast stronger than the previous one, and aimed it a foot down from the top of the creature's head. He let loose with a blast that knocked him back a bit, and kept it as strong and steady as he could. The beam hit the Creature's head area and burned a hole through it, blasting a large burn mark on the chalk board behind it before Danny could shut it off.

"Oops!" He said, then snarled, "_Dang_ it!" as he watched the Creature's gelatinous mass repair itself and appear completely unharmed.

"This isn't _wor_king!" He cried. "I can't hurt it; it just repairs itself!"

Danny hovered glaring at the Creature; Sam and Tucker stood behind him. The silence hung heavily over the room as the three teens wracked their brains for a solution. The Creature continued to stand where it was, as if waiting for Danny's next move.

Finally, Danny sighed. "I can only think of one other thing," he said. "And, I'm not sure I can even do it."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

Danny turned to her and Tucker. "Go in after Lancer myself."

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "Are you _nuts_?"

"Do you have a better solution?" Danny asked her, annoyed. "I tried talking to it, I tried blasting it, I tried hitting it - nothing is working!"

"I know, Danny, but . . ."

"But, nothing," Danny interrupted Sam's protest. "I should be able to get in, get Lancer and get out before that thing even knows what I'm doing. Sam, you be ready with the Fenton Thermos!"

"Okay," Sam reluctantly agreed.

Danny turned back to the Creature. "This is your last chance," he said. "to give back Lancer - _un_harmed! - or I'll . . ."

"Or you will what?" The Creature asked. After such a long silence, the Creature's voice startled Danny. "You will strike at Us with your strange appendages? Try to burn Us with your fire ray? These techniques have not worked before. Why do you think they will work now?"

"I don't," Danny said honestly. "That's why I'm going to do something different. I just wanted to give you one last chance to do the right thing."

"Do the right thing?" the Creature repeated. "What is the right thing to do?"

"Release Lancer," Danny answered forcefully.

"We cannot," The Creature replied with what sounded like regret. "We must avenge our Mother."

"Then you leave me no choice!"

Sam and Tucker watched as Danny disappeared into thin air. The Creature's midsection glowed suddenly and began quivering; they guessed that was where Danny was attempting to overshadow it. The creature roared and thrashed about, splattering it's black and green goo about the classroom. Sam and Tucker overturned a desk and crouched behind it, trying to avoid being covered in the muck, but as quickly as the goo was released, each individual piece began making its way back to the Creature.

Sam and Tucker watched the creature carefully, waiting for Danny to emerge with their teacher; Sam opened the top of the thermos in anticipation. Soon the creature's midsection glowed and trembled again, and Danny burst out, dragging Mr. Lancer by the arm. Though Danny had made them invisible, both were covered with the goo, so Sam and Tucker were able to make out their human shapes for a moment, until the stuff slid off them onto the floor, and made its way back to the Creature.

"Now, Sam!" Danny cried.

Sam stood and pointed the Fenton Thermos at the Creature, and the Thermos hummed to life. The Creature fought it, but the vacuum force was too strong, and it was soon sucked inside the Thermos; Sam slammed the lid back on, making sure to tighten it. When she looked up, Danny was back in his human form, and with Tucker's help the two were settling a now-unconscious Mr. Lancer into his chair behind his desk. Danny gently laid the man's face down on the desk and carefully backed away.

"Come on, let's get outta here," he whispered. "Before he wakes up!"

"Hopefully he'll just think he had a really weird dream!" Sam said as the three quietly slipped out of the classroom, gently closing the door behind them.

As careful as they were, the slight clicking of the door as it closed jolted Mr. Lancer awake. "Huh? Wha?" The teacher cried as he sat upright in his chair and looked anxiously around the room. He felt strange, but not as terribly sick as he had earlier. He wondered how long he'd been asleep.

"Frankenstein's _monster_ what a horrible dream!"

Mr. Lancer stood and sucked in a deep breath, amazed at how easy it was, and how amazingly refreshed he suddenly felt. "Hmm, that's odd," he muttered to himself. "I could barely breathe this morning. I could've swore I was coming down with something."

He shrugged, and gathered up his papers. Looking at the clock he was shocked to see it was after five o'clock in the afternoon.

"Rip van _Win_kle! I was asleep all day!" He exclaimed. Suddenly embarrassed, though no one was around to see him, Mr. Lancer gathered his papers and belongings, and quickly and quietly exited the school, jumped in his car and sped away from what had been a truly bizarre day.


	7. Epilogue: Lessons Learned

THE MONDAY AFTER

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Danny Phantom_, Butch Hartman does.

* * *

EPILOGUE: LESSONS LEARNED

Danny, Tucker and Sam tip-toed quietly down the stairs and entered the Fenton Works basement laboratory. Danny's house was dark and quiet - Jazz was studying at the library and a haphazardly scribbled note stuck to the fridge told Danny his parents had run out to get more supplies - but the kids didn't feel like making any unnecessary noise. Danny approached the wall next to the opening of the Ghost Portal where a machine stood ready to perform its function; Tucker and Sam held back, watching silently. With a heavy sigh Danny plugged the Fenton Thermos into the machine and pressed the button, releasing the mold-ghost-monster-creature-_whatever_-it-was into the Ghost Zone. They could hear its roaring howl as it was sucked out of the Thermos and expelled into an unknown realm. Its cries faded, and an unannounced, but still observed moment of silence followed.

"I hope it'll be okay in there." Sam's quiet voice echoed through the cavernous lab.

Danny turned to where she and Tucker still lingered in the shadows.

"Yeah," he said. "Me, too. I'm sorry the talking-it-out thing didn't work, Sam. It really _was_ a good idea, and it worked on the Box Ghost earlier, but . . . I dunno. Maybe I did it wrong . . ."

"You didn't do it wrong, Danny," Sam assured him. "It just didn't work this time."

"Yeah, talking doesn't always work, you know," Tucker added. "If it did, we wouldn't have wars and stuff."

"I guess so," Danny replied. He walked back over to the stairs, and sat down on the third step up. He rested his elbows on his knees and sighed. Tucker and Sam stood before him. "I guess I just feel kinda bad for that creature," Danny continued. "This whole thing wasn't its fault, and yet, it was the one that paid the price. I mean, its mother gets ghost powers, which I guess was kinda my fault in the first place, then she gets destroyed cause she's growing where she shouldn't be, and her final wish to her . . . children, I guess you'd call it, was to get back at the guy who did it. What choice did it have?"

"It could've said 'no'," Tucker said quietly. "It coulda walked away. Or, slimed, or oozed or whatever. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, Tucker, I do," Danny said. His lips curled into a slight smile, but it faded quickly. "But it didn't do any of those things."

"_And_ it didn't want to compromise," Sam added. "You _tried_, Danny, but it refused to release Lancer; it refused to even con_sid_er it! What choice did _you_ have? None! You couldn't just let that thing hurt our teacher!"

"Sam's right, Danny," Tucker said. "You gave it your best shot, but in the end, you had to fight it and defeat it."

"Yeah, I know," Danny said, a slight smile returning to his face. "You guys are right. I did all I could do, then I did what I _had_ to do."

"Exactly!" Tucker exclaimed. "And, look on the bright side: Mr. Lancer's gonna be okay!"

"I'm not sure how bright that side of it is, Tuck," Danny said with a smirk. "There's still the matter of a book report I never finished!"

"Could you use a little help?" Sam asked.

"As a matter of fact I could!" Danny said as he pulled himself up by the handrails and turned to head back up the stairs, followed by Sam and Tucker.

In another dimension, the newest inhabitant of the Ghost Zone floated aimlessly through the strange, swirling, misty world. Though disappointed in its failure to avenge its mother's death, the Creature began to feel more at ease in its new environment than it ever had in the other world. It bumped up against a solid object, and it pressed itself against the hard surface, exploring it. It was smooth in places and rough in others, like a large rock. The Creature settled itself into the various cracks and crevices, and relaxed. It was comfortable. It was safe. It was home.

The End


End file.
